


Between the Clouds and Falling Rain

by Sophia_the_Scribe



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-10 04:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_the_Scribe/pseuds/Sophia_the_Scribe
Summary: ...there is light. Or, five times one of Red Robin's fellow vigilantes came uninvited to Tam's apartment, and once when she showed up in their cave. Because the universe needs more Tim/Tam, and they got a horrible non-ending in the pre-boot continuity.





	1. 1 - Nightwing

Tam Fox was reading in her living room when she heard a polite tapping on her alley-side window. She was fairly surprised; Red Robin had tried to avoid her apartment during the night—whether from gentlemanly inclinations or an unwillingness to accidentally set more ninja on her, she wasn’t sure—and after the latest debacle she wondered if he would even come for help if he got injured.

She hoped he knew that she would always help him, despite other circumstances.

In any case, Tam checked the camera—installed by Tim, of course—and raised her eyebrows at the unexpected black-and-blue body suit rather than red with a black cowl and cape. She quickly moved to open the window.

Nightwing flipped inside easily and landed lightly on the balls of his feet, grinning as he turned to close the blinds.

“Uhh…good evening?”

“Hey!” The vigilante flashed her a dazzling smile.

“Is there…something I can help you with?”

“Not particularly. Just a quiet night out there, and I figured I’d come officially introduce myself to my little brother’s business-and-adventure-partner, if it’s not too inconvenient?”

“No, of course not,” Tam replied weakly. She may have gotten fairly used to Ninja Boy, but the rest of his dysfunctional vigilante family was another issue entirely.

“Great! I’m Richard Grayson. Well, Richard Grayson without the mask. This guy’s called Nightwing,” he flicked his chest in the middle of the stylized blue bird. “In any case, you can call me Dick, and I believe the last time we met was maybe twelve years ago? But I was a teenager and you were like, six, and we didn’t really run in the same groups, despite our dads being friends and all.”

“Yeah, that’s…probably about right.” Tam gestured for her guest to sit. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m craving sweet, carbonated, and teeth-rotting, if you happen to have any lying around.”

Tam nodded and fetched a can of coke from her fridge in the next room. He flashed his smile at her again as she handed it to him, popping the seal with one thumb and stretching back against the couch cushions, the other arm behind his head.

“So, you’re the girl who’s been keeping up with Tim all these months.”

Tam looked at him startled, giving a nervous huff of laughter. “This isn’t, like, the big brother version of the shovel talk, is it?”

Dick choked on his sip of coke and then shook his head, laughing. “No, no, of course not. It’s just, Timmy’s been really busy lately—well, we all have—and he’s not brought you around for any official Wayne family meet-and-greet yet, so I preemptively decided to drop in to see his girlfriend.”

Tam looked down at her lap, biting her lip.

Dick sat forward on the couch, losing his relaxed posture and gazing at her face intently. “Is something wrong?”

“Well, it’s just…I’m not exactly sure if we’re dating any more. Or ever really were, honestly.”

The vigilante raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, you know that the original engagement was a ruse, right? Or, a misunderstanding? First big story I could think of to divert Vicki Vale’s attention kind of thing?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he waved his hand nonchalantly, “I even heard that one from both sides, since Bruce managed to recruit Vicki when he couldn’t throw her off the trail. But I was sure you two had gotten dinner a few times since then?”

“We did. It was pretty great. I mean, aside from the lying, and ninja, and interrupted dates…”

“Curses of going out with a vigilante, I’m afraid. But what called it off?”

“Well, there was that whole Ünternet debacle, and some sort of assassination tournament, and then he _faked_ my dad’s _death_. And so I kind of slapped him, and told him I couldn’t forgive him for something like that.”

Dick winced sympathetically.

“And, well, a couple days later he called, and apologized, and basically said he understands if I can’t trust him in a personal capacity anymore but he hopes we can continue to work together for business, since the Neon Knights are doing so well, and I agreed, and I guess we’re friends again, kind of? But, nothing more? I don’t know.”

Tam dropped her chin into her palm. Dick leaned forward and laid a consoling hand on her closest knee.

“I’m sorry things have gotten rocky, Tam, I really am. But as far as I can see—and mind you, I don’t know the whole story—any possible continuation beyond friendship now lies with you. See, because, you said he apologized, right?”

She nodded.

“What exactly did he say?”

“That he was…sorry he’d had to lie to me, sorry I’d been hurt.”

“Well, there you have it. He’s not going to apologize for the actual action, simply because he thoroughly thought it through before he did it, and therefore he believed at that time and still believes now that it was necessary. And you told him you can’t forgive him for that. That’s fine, if you really mean it. Leave things how they are, then, because he’s not going to be able to give any more ground there. But if you do forgive him, and want him to, for instance, pick up where you left of on the whole dating thing, well—you’re going to have to tell him that specifically. Otherwise he’ll respect your wishes to avoid getting you personally entangled again.”

Tam wrinkled her forehead a little. “So, basically, you’re saying that as of right now, I have to decide whether I want Ninja Boy, with all his quirks, as more than a friend?”

“Pretty much, yeah. But if the answer is yes I’d advise you to make your move soon. Unattached vigilantes often don’t stay so for long, especially that one.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“He hasn’t told you his dating history yet, has he? Boy, are you in for some tales...”

Tam laughed. “I look forward to hearing them. And thanks for the unintended counseling session. I honestly didn’t mean to dump my dating problems on my possibly-boyfriend’s big brother when he showed up at my apartment in a mask and Kevlar in the middle of the night. His…still-unmarried big brother? Anything I can lend a sympathetic ear to as repayment?”

Dick’s face took on a melancholy look and he smiled, a little ruefully. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m afraid not. Babs’ and my problems run in a different direction entirely. Fewer trust issues, more bullets, less ninja, more Joker. But I’m hoping we’ll work ourselves out, one day. Anyway,” he shook himself out of the regret that hooded his eyes and finished up his coke in one more swallow, “I better get back out there, make sure Gotham’s still standing. Thanks for the drink! It was good to meet you again, Tam.”

“You too, Nightwing. Drop in anytime, okay? Though, you know, it could be during the day. I’m sure you have full access to WE’s offices.”

“Well, yes, of course, but where’s the fun in that?” He pouted for a second, before grinning at her once again and throwing out a “See ya!” as he dove out of the window and released a grappling line to fly off into the city.

Tam grinned a little herself as she closed the window, shook her head, and returned to her book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify: Dick did not just give away his secret identity. Tam, being smart, had deduced from her knowledge of Tim Drake as Red Robin that Bruce Wayne was Batman, Dick Grayson was Nightwing, and Damian Wayne was Robin. The other Batfamily members that she doesn't know are addressed in the later chapters of this story.


	2. 2 - Batman

Tam sat slumped in the armchair, drinking a cup of tea—a sign of stress; she typically avoided the stuff—and generally being exhausted.

It had, after all, been an exhausting day. Scratch that, an exhausting week.

Not only had a group of Arkham’s worst broken out again, leaving Tim’s eyes shadowed from days without sleep and burying Tam in mounds of paperwork and other business that she had to complete in order to cover his absences, but Tiffany had also called the evening before just as Tam was falling into an exhausted sleep to talk about _relationships_.

The last thing Tam had needed at that moment was to think about her _relationship_ with the vigilante who was probably at that moment risking his life in some stupid, noble attempt to bring Two-Face or Joker or whoever-it-was-at-the-moment back in.

She had hardly expected Ninja Boy to show up at Wayne Enterprises today; but he did, cruising through his nine o’clock meeting with a huge carafe of coffee and some stellar acting skills.

She also suspected a skillful use of concealer—did the Bats have a _make-up _budget?—and some pretty hefty painkillers, if the way he groaned as he slumped into his office chair at ten-thirty was any indication. She had immediately grabbed the stack of paper from his in-box and taken it to her own desk instead. He had smiled at her gratefully and wearily, before connecting his more-powerful-than-it-seemed desktop to the Batcave mainframe and continuing the search for Arkham’s escapees.

When she got back from lunch at one-thirty and he showed no sign of taking a break, she brought him a roast beef sandwich, an apple, and a glass of milk. He thanked her absently and began eating as he scrolled through pages of—were those riddles? Ugh, Gotham had the strangest criminals.

Halfway through the sandwich, the computer had chimed an incoming call, and Tam had listened more closely to the exchange than she really had any need to.

“Red Robin here.”

“Red, this is Oracle. Code green, here at the Clocktower, in five minutes. I’m going to need back-up.”

“On my way.” He was already stripping to the red-and-black armor he’d worn under his business clothes and retrieving the cape, cowl, gauntlets, and boots from their hiding place under his desk. “ETA eight minutes. Who else have you notified?”

By the time of this response he’d flipped the call from the computer to his cowl comm, disconnected the server from the Batcave, and began sliding down the fireman’s pole in the concealed shaft that connected down to the Bunker under the Tower.

Tam had simply sighed, putting the remaining food in the office fridge in case he showed up again.

He didn’t.

She had stayed late, ignored another call from her sister—apparently Tiff’s worry about her dating life hadn’t been assuaged by last night’s conversation, which really didn’t surprise Tam, as she’d been half-asleep during it—and finally driven home to some reheated mac-and-cheese and the cup of stress-tea.

The last thing she had been expecting was a dark growl of a voice snapping from the edge of darkness outside her circle of lamplight nearest to the used-to-be-closed window.

“What time did you last see Red Robin?”

Tam was never afterwards ashamed to admit that she’d shrieked, jumped to her feet, and spilled her tea.

“Wha…what?”

The dark-shrouded figure glared mildly.

“Oh, ah, Tim…right…it was…one forty? forty-five? enough time to finish half a sandwich that I’d brought him a little after half-past…”

Batman stepped slightly more into the light, highlighting a defined jaw, huge gauntleted hands and massive arms crossed over a broad chest, and just the nearest edge of the heavy cape that twitched around him in the breeze blowing, stiff and unexpected, from the open window.

Tam set down her sloshed teacup, clasped her hands behind her back as she had done in grade school when giving a recitation, and attempted to compose her breathing as Batman began an efficient interrogation.

“Why did he leave?”

“He received a comm-call from Oracle.”

“What did she say?”

“Code green at the Clocktower in five minutes. She asked for backup. Red asked her who else was coming, but he was gone before I heard her reply.”

“Did he seem suspicious of Oracle’s call?”

“No, only concerned and focused.”

“Where was he when he received it, and where did he go afterward?”

“We were both in our joint office at Wayne Tower. He dropped down the shaft to the Bunker. Oh, and he gave Oracle an ETA of eight minutes.”

“What was he doing when Oracle called?”

“Researching the Arkham escapees on his desktop linked to the Batcomputer. I saw a page of what looked like riddles when I brought him lunch.”

“Anything else you can tell me about him before or after he left?”

“Uh, he seemed exhausted and probably injured, but I’m sure you knew that. Mostly he just tuned out everything other than the case, except when he was acting for the staff.”

“Hnh.”

“I can’t think of anything else that might be useful. What’s happened? Is he…”

Batman jerked his head affirmatively. “You are the last person besides Oracle to have contact with him, and she is missing as well.” He touched his ear. “Batgirl, any further developments at the Clocktower?...Very well. Keep searching.” His gaze returned to Tam. “Code green and riddles.”

Tam nodded.

Batman spoke into his cowl again. “All responders, priority is Riddler. He is presently the most likely culprit of Oracle and Red Robin’s disappearance.”

He turned to leave.

“Wait!” cried Tam.

The swirling cape arrested its movement.

“What can I do to help?”

Gotham’s most famous vigilante turned to her with an assessing eye, and she squirmed under the inspection, but eventually, never shifting his gaze, he reached into his utility belt and pulled out a spare comm-link, along with some sort of computer gadgetry that he plugged into her laptop as it rested on the side table.

“This will connect you to our mainframe. Find Red Robin and Oracle’s records from today and tell us through this comm what they were both researching this morning. Do not attempt to access anything else: the computer will keep record and I will know. Use the code name Tevmesia.”

With that, Batman leapt from the window, slamming it shut behind him.

Tam, fatigue falling from her as she opened her computer with renewed focus, got to work.

By three-thirty, all had been resolved. After Tevmesia’s recounting of the missing Bats’ research, Batgirl’s investigations at the Clocktower, a half-static call from Oracle, Black Bat’s goon interrogations and Robin’s explosions, Red Robin’s quick thinking, Nightwing’s quick legwork, and Batman’s quick fist, the Riddler was apprehended and his villainous plan undermined, and Tam Fox passed out on her couch in exhaustion.

When her phone chimed her awake two hours later, she nearly smashed it.

But the bat-symbol-signed note that lay with the comm-link next to her laptop—Batcomputer connection removed—almost made waking up worth it.

_Tevmesia: _

_This comm-link is yours. It will now recognize and respond to only your ear shape, fingerprint, voice, and DNA. Keep it hidden and safe. Use it only to relay night-work information or in emergencies. Red Robin will explain how to work it if you have any questions._

_Your apartment has been added in Bat records as a civilian safe-house. You will soon be supplied with a standard Bat first aid kit and extra civilian clothes. Notify the Cave whenever you have guests or your apartment is otherwise out of commission as a safe-house. _

_I trust your discretion based on your work tonight and Red Robin’s commendation. Do not misuse it. Destroy this note. _

`-=_`-’_=-‘

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up the fireman's pole at the Bats' WE offices to the Bunker in the basement, but it sure seems logical to me. Say that Bruce had it installed when Wayne Tower was first built as a quick exit for Bat-business, and then Tim purposefully has an office directly below Bruce's in order to take advantage of it as well. 
> 
> Tam's code name Tevmesia is from the Greek myth of the αλωπεξ τευμησιος, or Teumessian Fox, which was strangely the only fox I could find anywhere in classical mythology. (Story: the alopex teumesius was a fox that could not be caught sent by the gods to ravish the Theban countryside as punishment for something-or-other; Amphytrion, the hero charged with catching the fox--an impossible task--set Laelaps, the dog that would catch whatever you set it on, on its trail; Zeus dealt with the paradox of an inescapable dog chasing an uncatchable fox by turning both to stone, freezing their contest in time forever.) I changed the transliteration from Teumessia to Tevmesia for two reasons: firstly, I took Koine Greek in high school, and having learned the Koine rather than Erasmian pronunciation Alopex Tevmesios is how I would independently transliterate Teumessian Fox; secondly, Tevmesia shortens very nicely to Tev where Teumessia doesn't have an obvious abbreviation. And when her code name is three-to-four syllables long, an abbreviation would be helpful despite Tam not now and (in my opinion) never being a field operative.


	3. 3 - Batgirl

It was late when Tam returned, dripping from the rain, to her apartment. She had just been to one of the semi-regular Fox family dinners that she always enjoyed—they were certainly calmer than Tim’s reports of the Wayne equivalents, which supposedly featured death threats, shouting, and occasional potentially-lethal weaponry—and, fairly tired, she was inclining toward going directly to bed.

Her plans were arrested, however, as she flipped on the living room lights: a vigilante lay face-down, passed out underneath the now-open window, getting steadily rained on.

A vigilante with a black, purple, and gold suit and long blonde hair.

“Batgirl!” Tam rushed across the room, slamming the window shut and drawing the blinds before kneeling down and hesitating in indecision. Guessing that the girl would not have made it to her apartment if she had an injury that shouldn’t be moved, she took a firm grip on her nearest shoulder and hip and, heaving, rolled her onto her back.

She checked Batgirl’s pulse: strong but erratic, and there was no sign of blood or much else in the way of external injury. Tam consulted her very limited medical knowledge and decided either concussion or drug.

Fairly certain that the vigilante wouldn’t die within the next minute or so, Tam headed to her bedroom and grabbed an extra pillow and the blanket from the foot of the bed, along with the Bat-sanctioned first aid kit from its concealed hiding place in her closet. She also fished her comm-link out of her purse—Tim had recommended always keeping it with her; it was for _emergencies_, after all, which were by definition unplanned—before tossing the handbag, along with her wet raincoat and shoes, by her nightstand.

She stuck the comm in her ear and called the Batcave as she spread the blanket over Batgirl and slid the pillow under her head. “Tevmesia to Batcave, this is urgent. Cave, come in. Cave?”

She quickly redialed while finding the smelling salts in the first aid kit. “Tevmesia to Batman, come in Batman.” No reply.

She grunted in frustration, waved the salts under Batgirl’s nose, and tried again. “Tevmesia to Red Robin. Do you read?”

Batgirl gasped and blinked—Tam was suddenly grateful for that particular suit’s un-lensed eyes—and the comm came to life, relaying a huffed breath, calm voice, and—was that gunfire in the background?

“Double R here. What’s the situation, Tevmesia?”

Tam sighed in twice-compounded relief, and promptly wondered who to talk to first.

“Red, I’ve got Batgirl passed out—well, she was passed out—in my apartment. She just woke up to the smelling salts. Batgirl, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?”

Batgirl blinked in confusion with glazed eyes, attempting to lift herself, before giving a horse cry and collapsing into the pillow, eyes rolling back into her head.

“Batgirl!”

“What’s her status now?” The vigilante on the other end of the line asked before giving a grunt and muttering, “worthless piece of scum.”

“Unconscious again. Her heartbeat is strong but erratic, her gaze unfocused, and she gave a cry that sounded like fear as she passed out. I don’t see any other injuries, but I don’t actually know.”

“Sounds like,” he grunted again, “an outdated form of Scarecrow’s fear toxin, which fits with what she was doing tonight. Check her fifth pouch from the center on the right to see if she’s given herself the antidote. The belt’s mechanism is the same as what I showed you on mine. If she’s had it, she should be fine in a couple of…oh crap.”

The transmission was abruptly cut off.

Her fingers shaking from dual worry for hero-in-danger here and hero-in-danger there, Tam managed to recall Tim’s prior instructions and open the designated pouch, which seemed to contain various medical supplies. She found in it a used hypodermic syringe labeled SC-FT3 (BG), which she deduced to stand for Scarecrow Fear Toxin Three, dosage for Batgirl.

The girl should be clear, then, in a couple…somethings. Minutes? Hours? She highly doubted Tim was going to say days. At least, she hoped not, or she would most certainly be calling the Bats again before the night was over. No way would she leave an unconscious Batgirl in her apartment all day. Then again, who knew how long she had been lying there already?

At least she could try to make her more comfortable. Tam ran to the utility room and came back with a stack of towels and another couple blankets. The former she either laid on the carpet to hopefully soak up some water or used to dry off what she could of Batgirl’s exposed costume; the latter she spread one atop the other as some extra cushioning, since she was sure she wouldn’t be unable to lift her onto a real couch or bed. As it was, she moved the pillow, lifted her head onto her lap, and grasped her under the arms, beginning to drag the unconscious vigilante backwards onto the blankets.

Of course, the process would have gone much more smoothly had said vigilante stayed unconscious.

As it was, she suddenly arched her back, almost tearing herself from Tam’s grip, and screamed. Tam slapped a hand over her mouth—the last thing she needed was the neighbors investigating—and was promptly bitten for her efforts. She shrieked herself and removed her hand. Batgirl started panting rapidly.

Tam wondered why she’d assumed the vigilante would stay unconscious for the couple-somethings it would take for the antidote to work.

And now her hand was dripping blood on the carpet. Great. She snatched up one of the extra towels to wrap it in, wincing as Batgirl screamed again.

She hoped that the neighbors either were away or had gone inexplicably deaf, or that the apartment’s walls were relatively soundproof. Though the last one wasn’t all that improbable, actually—the Bat had designated it a “safe-house,” after all. That was not something he would do without research.

Ignoring that variable as Out Of Her Control, she crouched by Batgirl’s side, wondering what on earth she could do to help her in this state.

Then Batgirl shouted, “No!” and curled up on her side weeping, and Tam immediately dropped to her level and pulled her into her arms. “Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay…”

“No, no…don’t…don’t leave….B…Br…” The vigilante trailed off again into incoherent sobs.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tam whispered, knowing full well that Batgirl couldn’t hear her, caught as she was in whatever terrifying dream world the drug had conjured in her mind, but unable to do nothing.

The scene continued in the same way for the next two hours—Batgirl would fall unconscious again, then wake to fear, now rambling, now silently terrified—until finally she blinked open clear, focused eyes and furrowed her brow in confusion at Tam’s face above her.

“Wha…?” she began vaguely.

“You were fear toxin-ed, but you gave yourself the antidote and I think it’s over. Do you want…some water, or something?”

“…sure.” Tam went to fill a glass as Batgirl slowly pushed herself up and shuffled over to lean against the couch. She quickly gulped the drink that Tam handed to her.

“Thanks. You’re Tam Fox, right? Tevmesia?” Tam nodded and smiled. “I wasn’t exactly sure where I’d end up when I set my bike to autopilot me to the nearest open safe-house right after I got hit with that old toxin. I hate the ancient stuff; less dangerous in general, but the stupid antidote takes hours to work. Where did you find me? Did I get in the window successfully?”

“I think so. Well, you didn’t close it, but I found you passed out inside of it, at least.”

Batgirl laughed. “You’re probably hoping this doesn’t happen too often, now that you’re on Bat-radar and all. Or, no, you could keep a running tally and give prizes to the most frequently injured!”

Unsure of how to respond, Tam smiled a little uncertainly. Her guest just laughed again.

“Kidding! I swear, you have as little a sense of humor as Tim; I can see why you get along. How’s he doing civilian-wise, by the way? I only ever see him for night work.”

“Uh, okay, I guess. WE and the Neon Knights keep both of us pretty busy, and the Bat knows Ninja Boy has a lot more on his plate, but he seems to be doing fairly well.”

Batgirl hummed in response and pursed her lips. Then she brightened suddenly and pulled off her cowl. Tam blinked in surprise.

“Sorry, just realized I was being rude. Stephanie Brown, nice to meet you. I’m Tim’s not-actually-dead ex-girlfriend, former Spoiler and Robin, now Batgirl, not officially part of the Batfamily but kinda half-adoped, half-intruding anyway.” She held out a gauntleted hand, which Tam shook, confused. She thoughts the Bats were paranoid about their identities.

“Oh, I guess you didn’t know who I was before. Whatever, if you know the Big Bad Bat’s Big Billionaire Secret, I’m pretty sure you can keep quiet about Steph Brown, Gotham University attendee and night-flyer. Tim seemed to imply you’re in college, too, as well as helping him run that WE stuff. What’re you studying?”

“Oh, well, business. You?”

“Not sure yet. Maybe communications. Though I really don’t quite understand how you two are such big-name business-types already. I mean, Tim never even finished High School!”

Tam laughed. “I’m pretty sure he’s planning on getting his GED one of these days when he finds time.”

Steph snorted. “He’d better. I’m surprised Bruce hasn’t insisted on it already.”

“Are you two talking about me behind my back? That seems kind of rude.”

Both girls turned to see Red Robin, sans cowl, raising an eyebrow at them from in front of the window.

“It’s only rude if you listen in!” Batgirl returned without missing a beat. “You’re crashing our Tim’s-friends girl-party.”

A smirk flickered at the corners of his mouth. “I’m pretty sure most girl-parties aren’t fear-toxin induced.”

“Well, this one was. Though the next one might not be. Mind if I show up every so often, Tam? I could get used to gossiping about, what’d-ya-call-him, Ninja Boy, with a fellow commiserating female.” 

“Uh, sure. Though I’d prefer with fewer hallucinations. And I’m sure you have more stories than I…”

“We’ll just have to get you caught up, then. Shoo, Red. We’re talking girl stuff.”

Tim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to regret that you two ever met, aren’t I.”

“Yup!” Steph said brightly. Tam grinned, but felt a little like grimacing, too. She wasn’t sure Tim’s and her maybe-relationship was quite up for this kind of thing yet. But then again, Stephanie, she was finding out, was pretty much impossible to nay-say.

Tim rolled his eyes before pulling up his cowl and opening the window. “See you in the morning, Tam, tomorrow night, Steph. I’m glad you’re both alright.” He slipped out unobtrusively into the rain and closed it behind him.

Tam and Steph looked at it for a moment, then back at each other. Then Steph grinned wickedly. “So, embarrassing story time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not find anything about what either Tam or Steph are studying in college. Please correct me if you know!


	4. 4 - Robin

If Nightwing’s appearance had been unexpected and polite, Batman’s unexpected and startling, and Batgirl’s unexpected and worrying, than Robin’s was unexpected and utterly terrifying.

At least, Tam was utterly terrified. She vaguely wondered if Tim wouldn’t be, anymore, having gotten used to this sort of thing from supervillains, ninja, and, apparently, little brothers.

“This sort of thing” being a ten-year-old vigilante crashing vengefully through the window, scowling magnificently, and advancing toward her with a drawn katana. She froze.

The red, green, and yellow of the Robin suit reassured her slightly, but she couldn’t help wondering where Batman was when one really needed him to keep his progeny in line.

“Fox,” hissed the little demon.

Tam clutched the strap of her purse tighter in her hand, wondering if she could get to the bat-comm to call for reinforcements without the young bat noticing. She decided against trying.

“That’s me.” She licked her lips. “And you’re…Damian.”

If possible, Robin’s scowl deepened. “That imbecile Drake should never have told you his name. You know too much.”

Tam blinked in surprise, momentarily forgetting the katana blade currently aimed somewhere in the vague direction of her pancreas—or maybe spleen, wouldn’t that be ironic?

“Uhh, Robin? Ninja Boy didn’t exactly tell me his name, I mean, I hardly saw him passed out with that assassin girl in the Wayne suite before we were both kidnapped. The next time we met he wasn’t wearing his cowl, or much else, having just had his spleen removed. And I, well, recognized him.”

Damian sneered. “Tt. Only Drake would be incompetent enough to be captured by Grandfather’s ninja. I’ve not lost a battle to them since I was eight years old.”

Now Tam was starting to get annoyed. “Well, I doubt he would have been captured so easily had he not been barely alive from the Council of Spiders stab wound that made the spleen-removal necessary! Honestly. And, wait, did you just say…? That Al Ghul creep is your grandfather?”

This was probably not the wisest comment to make, as the kid growled and his grip tightened on the katana. Tam was really starting to worry for her spleen.

“You will not speak of my lineage that way, plebian! My mother raised me to be her heir, and the heir of the League of Assassins. You will show more respect to my upbringing.”

“You’re slated to inherit a bunch of killer ninja? Sorry, kid, but I think I respect the other side of your parentage a little more. And, hold on, if you’re the heir, what was Ra’s doing trying to recruit Tim?”

Damian’s face stiffened, and the katana shook a little before the sneered and stilled it. “I do not pretend to always understand my Grandfather’s decisions. Drake would never have been a worthy heir.”

There was…insecurity there, if Tam didn’t misread the kid. As if, despite apparently turning his back on that way of life, he still felt betrayed by his grandfather’s choosing another. Maybe he didn’t so much hate Tim as…feel threatened by him?

Tam valued her spleen too much to attempt to voice that idea concerning Damian’s motivations. Instead, she slowly uncurled one hand from her purse strap and raised it in a gesture of peace.

“Whatever you want from me, Robin, I can assure you I won’t need persuading at sword point.”

The young vigilante narrowed his eyes but didn’t sheath the katana. “I just want you to know that I’m watching you, Fox. Father may be prematurely convinced that you are trustworthy, but I warn you. If you ever even think of betraying him or my brother, I will destroy you.”

Tam raised her eyebrows at the “brother” part. She was sure Tim had said…

Damian scoffed. “Grayson, of course. Drake is no brother of mine.”

Of course.

Tam nodded in what she hoped was a conciliatory way. “I would never betray your family, Damian. Not only because I know any one of you could take me out without any trouble, but because I care for Tim too much to hurt him like that. So you don’t need to worry.”

This earned her another hard glare. The kid wasn’t quite at Batman level, though, and Tam met it without too much difficulty.

“I am not worried. But you will not compromise my family’s honor.”

She inclined her head. Robin sheathed his katana in a smooth stroke and, with a flare of his cape, jumped out of the window whose broken glass lay strewn across the carpet. Tam sighed as she fetched the vacuum cleaner. How would she explain the broken window in order to get a new one? She could hardly plead “young homicidal vigilante,” could she? Oh well, that was a problem for tomorrow. Once she cleaned up she was so done with this day.

And if another not-quite-so-young red-and-black-clad vigilante, having heard through the Bat-grapevine what had transpired that night, took up guard outside her now-unprotected window for the rest of the night to keep out the ninja, well, he didn’t need to know she checked those cameras regularly before going to bed.

After all, he would probably only be embarrassed if she thanked him for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim, having installed the cameras himself, definitely knows he is in view of them. (In fact, he probably chose to be in view of them in case she "checks those cameras regularly before going to bed" because he wants her to feel safe as well as be safe.) He would still be embarrassed if she thanked him for being considerate, though.


	5. 5 - Black Bat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a short discussion of planned rape that never comes to fruition (if you know the Red Robin comics, it's just a reference to That Scene).

Tam was sitting on her couch with her computer on her lap, finishing up the day’s paperwork that she hadn’t gotten done at the office. She was working through some Neon Knights presentations and looking up various statistics she needed to incorporate into the report when she happened to glance sideways and suddenly realized that she was no longer alone on the couch.

On the side closest to the window, leaning back against the armrest with her legs and cape tucked under her, was an Asian girl in a mask and black body armor with a bat emblazoned across her chest.

Tam blinked. The first question that came to mind was why Black Bat was in Gotham—according to Tim, she should still be in Hong King. The second—which probably should have been the first—was why she was in Tam’s apartment.

“Uhh…hello.”

Black Bat inclined her head in greeting, closing Tam’s copy of _Sense and Sensibility_ that she had been flipping through and setting it back on the side table.

“What are you doing in Gotham? Tim implied you were still in Hong Kong.”

“Visiting. Also, need help on a case.”

“Oh. Well, did you need something from me, or just a place to hang out?”

“Wanted to meet you. Batman said this is a safe-house.”

“Yes, he did designate it that way. But Robin’s already been in to threaten retribution on behalf of his family, so if that’s what you’re here for you needn’t bother.”

“Was not going to threaten. Just wanted to talk.”

“Oh.” Tam smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. What do you want to talk about?”

Black Bat tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, studying the other girl intently. Tam shifted a little under the scrutiny, not sure what make of the enigmatic Bat on her couch and self-conscious about such close examination. Eventually the vigilante, eyes never leaving Tam’s face, reached back to the side table and picked up _Sense and Sensibility_ again. She held it out to Tam.

“Read to me, please.”

Tam was confused, but not seeing a reason not to comply with the request she took the book and opened it, setting aside her laptop.

“Any specific chapter?”

Black Bat shook her head. Tam shrugged, and, opening the book to somewhere in the middle, started reading.

_Before the housemaid had lit their fire the next day, or the sun gained any power over a cold, gloomy morning in January, Marianne, only half dressed, was kneeling against one of the window-seats for the sake of all the little light she could command from it, and writing as fast as a continual flow of tears would permit her. In this situation, Elinor, roused from sleep by her agitation and sobs, first perceived her; and after observing her for a few moments with silent anxiety, said in a tone of the most considerate gentleness,—_

Tam paused a moment and glanced up at her guest, wondering what the purpose of this was, but upon her giving no sign she continued.

_“Marianne, may I ask—?” _

_“No, Elinor,” she replied, “ask nothing; you will soon know all.” _

_The sort of desperate calmness with which this was said lasted no longer than while she spoke, and was immediately followed by a return of the same excessive affliction. It was some minutes before she could go on with her letter; and the frequent bursts of grief which still obliged her, at intervals, to withhold her pen, were proofs enough of her feeling how more than probable it was that she was writing for the last time to Willoughby. _(1)

Tam stopped again, this time because Black Bat had silently moved closer to her on the couch and now looked over her shoulder as she read. She quickly pointed out where she was, and the vigilante nodded to her to continue. She did so, finishing the rest of the chapter before closing the book at her guest’s gesture of thanks and laying it aside.

They sat together in silence for a few moments before Tam took a breath and opened her mouth to make some conversation about Austen and her novels, but Black Bat beat her to it.

“You are sad.”

Tam closed her mouth abruptly. “What?”

“Sad. Not right now. In general.”

She scrambled for a reply. “Well, I guess I’m a little lonely, first apartment by myself and all that. But I’m getting used to it.”

The other girl cocked her head a little. “Yes, you are lonely. But you are also sad. About a problem you don’t know how to fix.”

Tam shrugged a little, at a loss for words. What do you say when a vigilant randomly shows up in your house, reads romance literature with you, and then informs you about your feelings?

“Tim looks the same. He is not ‘fine.’ Words can lie, gestures can’t.”

Tam looked at the girl again, then spoke carefully. “Tim mentioned you as his sister—I wasn’t sure quite what he meant, since Mr. Wayne has only adopted boys, at least as far as I know—but he didn’t say much about you. Are you…reading my body language?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“You are sad.”

“So you said.” She sighed. “And…think I know what problem you’re referring to, as well.”

“You like Tim but are unable to tell him so.”

“That…would be it, yes.”

“He hurt you.”

“Well, yes. But I’ve gotten over that.”

She narrowed her eyes again. “Not quite. But mostly.” Then she nodded firmly. “Talk to him.”

Tam gave a snort of laughter. “I know. It’s just not as easy as I would’ve thought. I mean, I’ve already put it off for a few weeks now.”

Black Bat leaned back into the couch, giving Tam an appraising look—not studying, as before, but calculating, as if Tam were a mixture of chemicals and she wondered if adding something else would create what she wanted or cause an explosion. Eventually she nodded and stood up, pacing to the far side of the room.

“Tim wants to fix the problem as much as you do. But he is not only respecting your previous words. He is also scared.”

“Scared?” Tam echoed, incredulous.

“Yes. He does not realize it himself.”

“Why is he scared? Does he think I’m in danger, that he’ll lose me?” 

Black Bat turned to her, mildly surprised. “Yes. He is scared about that. As for everyone he loves. But he is also scared of you, of what you could do.”

“What I could do? What are you talking about? I would never intentionally hurt him! Well, I mean, I know I slapped him, but I was angry. This can’t possibly be about that…”

“No. He regrets inciting you to the action.”

“Then what?”

Black Bat appraised her again, then spoke seriously. “I alone know what I am about to tell you. Do not speak of it with anyone, even his family. It would be a breach of trust.”

Tam caught her breath. “Of…of course. I won’t…I won’t tell anyone.”

The vigilante gave a sharp nod. “On his recent mission about the assassination tournament, Tim worked with a vigilante whom he did not fully trust. She turned on him and captured him with metahuman powers that she had been concealing. She took him to a cave where her sister waited. The sister was related to Ra’s Al Ghul and was under orders from him to secure Tim’s child before killing him. I responded to Tim’s activated distress signal before she could either rape or kill him.”

Tam let out a horrified breath and put her hand to her mouth. “What? He was almost…? Oh, man…”

Black Bat nodded soberly.

Tam turned away, trying to assimilate the new information. Tim had always seemed so…so composed. In control. She could hardly believe something like that—like that!—could almost happen to someone like him. She closed her eyes against an assault of images of what could have happened, how hurt he could have been.

“Wait…this happened…before he came back? Before…” Before she slapped him and accused him, the man under the mask, of being cold.

“Yes.”

She bit her lip. “How…how far did she get?”

“Not at all. Except undressing. Herself, not him. Naked villains were a new experience.”

Tam sighed in relief. “Thank you for telling me. Frankly, I feel really bad, now, about what happened. I will definitely talk to him soon.”

“Good.” Black Bat walked to the window. “He should be back at the cave by the time we get there.”

Tam blinked. “Wait, what? Now?”

Black Bat raised an eyebrow.

“O…kay…I don’t know where it is, though…”

“Drive to Wayne Manor and wait at the gate. I will let you in.”

She slipped out into the night.

“Hold on!...never mind.” Darn manipulative Bats. She sighed in resignation and grabbed her purse. “I guess I’ll just figure out what to say on the drive over,” she said to herself as she left the apartment, locking the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility, Second Volume Chapter VII (New York: Barnes and Noble Classics, 2003), 146-147. 
> 
> In case it wasn't clear, Cass was using Tam's body language as she read Sense and Sensibility to get to know her, so to speak. I hope it's a believable idea. 
> 
> In other news: Honestly, "Red Robin: Seven Days of Death" was a cosmic mish-mash of unrelated storylines and utterly confusing plot points, but Tim's voice in the dialogue and captioning (and Marcus To's beautifully drawn panels, of course) made me glad I had read it despite that. But in any case one of the results of its excessive eclecticness is that stuff doesn't really get *resolved*. The Unternet was all-along strange and then just left hanging, the assassination tournament really seemed to end without resolution, the Lynx kissing scene was just weird, the ending after the Captain Boomerang fiasco was just sad, and most especially there's no follow-up to the rape attempt! Hoping to address this at least a bit was one of my reasons for writing this story.


	6. +1 - The Batcave

Pulling up to Wayne Manor’s intricate wrought iron gates, Tam Fox was no closer to having any idea what she would say to Tim once Black Bat showed her to the Cave. She sighed and began rolling down her window for the intercom, but this proved unnecessary as the gates opened smoothly before she could say a word. Shrugging, she shifted back into gear and headed up the long driveway.

Maybe the couple more minutes until the house would give her an inspiration.

Finally she cleared the avenue of trees and pulled around the circle drive, parking without too much thought—surely if she were in an inconvenient spot they would just ask her to move the car. She locked it, probably unnecessarily, and walked up the steps. Before she could ring the doorbell, however, the door swung open, revealing the petite form of Black Bat. The vigilante stepped back to let her in and silently shut the door behind her before leading the way down the hall.

“I am Cassandra Cain.”

Tam blinked in surprise at the sudden words. Before she could come up with a good reply, Cassandra continued. 

“You asked about my relationship with Red Robin. He is my brother because Batman began my adoption before his supposed death. He plans to finalize it this trip.”

“Oh,” Tam replied, intelligently, “I see. Um. Thanks for clarifying.”

“He is also my brother by choice. He is hurting. You need to talk to him.”

She winced. “Yes, I know, I have already let it go too long. Hopefully tonight can set things right.”

Cassandra gave a sharp nod as she halted, reaching up to manipulate the hands of the large grandfather clock before which they were standing. On a perfectly silent track it slid sideways, revealing an open doorway and a flight of concrete steps. Tam took a deep breath.

This was it. She was finally seeing the Batcave.

She stepped through the door and started down the steps, hardly noticing Cassandra close it behind her and then slip past her. She slowly descended the stairs, gazing around in wonder. Directly ahead was the main platform and computer monitor, where an incongruously tuxedo-clad man nonchalantly cleaned with a spray bottle and cloth—Alfred, the Wayne family butler, her brain supplied belatedly—and there were counters everywhere, spread with various piles of vigilante gadgets.

Just as her foot touched platform level, the man deposited his supplies on one of the nearby counters and came forward to greet her.

“Miss Tamara Fox, I believe? I am Alfred Pennyworth, Master Wayne’s butler. I am afraid your hosts have run into a spot of trouble; I would venture to suppose that is where Miss Cassandra is going right now.” Indeed, as he was speaking, she heard the mutter of a powerful but muted engine as Black Bat shot down a long tunnel on a black bike. “Do make yourself comfortable while you wait for them. Have a look around, if you wish. But have a care before you touch anything unidentifiable: you would not believe what dangerous equipment and artifacts I have found lying around completely unmarked!”

He shook his head disparagingly. Tam snickered. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth. I’ll be careful.”

“Just Alfred, please, Miss Tamara. Let me know if you need anything; I’ll be upstairs but the clock will be open. Call at any time.”

She smiled at the butler before turning to explore the vast cave before her. She headed first to what seemed to be a trophy collection combined with the closest thing the Cave had to a sitting room. She shook her head at the animatronic T-Rex and giant penny. What even was this stuff? The oversized plaid couch seemed out of place, as did the bean bag chairs, but she supposed even a hard-core ninja-family needed a place to crash, sometimes, without using the Manor upstairs. She was just examining an incongruous stack of books on a table just below the dinosaur’s left hind leg—Gotham’s court records from ten years back really seemed to have little connection to some tome called _Thermonuclear Astrophysics: An Introductory Primer_, and the _Scarlet Pimpernel_ surely must have been left there by accident—when the cave’s speakers suddenly pinged and the computer announced an incoming call.

“Batman to Batcave.”

Tam looked wildly around the cave, hoping Alfred would appear to answer, before running over to the monitor and hunting for some kind of “accept call” button.

“Come in, Cave.” Batman sounded gruff and vaguely impatient.

Suddenly she realized the computer was touchscreen and tapped “Transmit.” “Uh, this is Batcave…Tevmesia speaking.”

“Tevmesia.” Batman’s voice, if possible, grew harder, and Tam flinched at her own incompetence. “Get Agent A immediately and tell him to prepare the med-bay for a blood transfusion for Red Robin, and suturing for a through-and-through pistol wound to the right thigh. Nightwing is bringing him in the Batmobile, ETA four minutes. Do you understand?”

Tam let out a horrified breath and scrambled to reply. “Yes…yes. Uh…Copy that.” The computer announced the call terminated, but Tam was already running up the stairs into the Manor shouting for help.

“Alfred? Alfred!”

The butler appeared in the hallway. “Miss Tamara? What’s happened?”

“It’s Red Robin!” She latched onto his arm and began urgently dragging him toward the Cave, relaying as fast as she could what Batman had said. By the time she finished they were back in the Cave, clock-door shut tightly behind them, and Alfred was quickly but competently selecting and arranging medical equipment while Tam stood to the side, breathing heavily from adrenaline, hands twitching aimlessly. Eventually she headed back to the main platform where she paced nervously until a deep roar sounded through the tunnel and a black streak shot out, jerking to a stop terrifyingly close to where she was standing.

Immediately Nightwing in his iconic black-and-blue jumped out, cradling in his arms what was to her a much more familiar cowled figure. Brushing past her without so much as a glance—not that she was offended; he had much more important things to tend to, after all—he ran to the medical bed Alfred had prepared and quickly relayed specifics as they both began injecting and monitoring and transfusing and connecting and stripping and suturing.

For a few moments Tam stood nearby with a vague idea of offering to help, but soon she realized that even the offer would be inconvenient at this point, and if they needed anything they’d surely call out to her. She returned to the computer console where she sat in the biggest chair, drumming her fingers on the desk and worriedly chewing her lip before she realized what she was doing and forced herself to stop. She had not broken that habit just to start it up again because of a wounded vigilante!

She got up again and wandered aimlessly for a while before grabbing some towels from the laundry room near the med-bay and cleaning up any blood that she could find in both in the Batmobile itself and on the cave floor. Just as she was finishing up and trying to decide where to put the soiled cloths the computer pinged again, announcing another call.

“Batman to Batcave.”

This time Tam responded without hesitation.

“Batcave, Tevmesia speaking.”

“As soon as Red Robin is stable we need Nightwing back in the field. Tell him the number of hostage situations is exceeding what our operatives can address. He should contact Oracle for specifics as soon as possible.”

“Copy that.”

She quickly made her way back to medical where the two were just finishing their care. At her hesitant relaying of Batman’s message Nightwing closed his eyes and sighed, running a hand through his sweaty hair before leaning down to kiss his unconscious brother on the forehead and murmur something in a low voice. He then began striding back toward the Batmobile, pausing to lay his right hand on her shoulder.

“Stay with him, alright?” he asked gently before pulling on his gauntlets and heading out of the Cave.

Slowly Tam approached the bed where Alfred was cleaning up used laundry and medical supplies and studied the still figure lying much to pale against the stark-white sheets. Her forehead creased in sympathy and continued worry.

Tenderly she reached out and brushed back a lock of dark hair that had fallen haphazardly across his face, then suddenly caught her breath and drew her hand back as if burned, having startled herself with the affection and intimacy of the gesture. She glanced quickly away and sat down into the chair that Alfred had drawn up behind her.

She settled herself in to wait.

She was dozing, a little—the Cave’s chairs were infinitely more comfortable than anything she’d ever sat on in a real hospital—when a movement next to her startled her back to full consciousness. Immediately her attention was on the bed, where Tim was blinking open lucid blue eyes and shifting a little under the blanket. Tam leaned forward, smiling to see him awake. His lips twitched upward in a returning smirk even as his eyes clouded in confusion.

He opened his mouth to say something but his voice came out dry and raspy. Tam winced in sympathy and handed him a water bottle from the counter. He shifted himself into a slightly more upright position and took a large swig.

“What are you doing here, Tam?” he asked as he screwed the lid back on.

She glanced at the floor, unaccountably shy. “Your sister brought me.”

“Cassandra?” That was obviously not what he had been expecting. “Why? I mean, I’m glad to see you, but I don’t envy her explaining your presence here to Bruce. Then again, she is his only daughter; she’ll probably get away with it,” he added under his breath.

Tam giggled, then immediately sobered as she glanced back at his too-pale features and thought of the bloody pad of gauze bound to his leg. “She…well…she wanted me to talk to you,” Tam began hesitantly, then upon hearing what she had said quickly corrected herself. “I mean, I was going to talk to you anyway, at least I was planning to ever since Nightwing showed up and made me thing about it; or, actually, I wanted to even before that but didn’t know, well, anything, but then later I couldn’t seem to find the time, and it always seemed so awkward, figuring out what to say, I mean, and I just kept putting it off, and then Cassandra showed up and told me...told me…”

Unable to proceed, and suddenly realizing she had been rambling dreadfully, Tam blushed and turned away. Maybe the floor would swallow her before she had to confront the fallout of that messy speech…

“You…wanted to talk?”

“Well, yes.” She stole a quick glance at him through her hair. “I mean, only if you want.”

“Of course!” he breathed.

She risked a real look at his face, seeing there such mingled hope and insecurity in his hesitant smile and open blue eyes that she threw all caution to the proverbial wind and reached up to lay one trembling hand on his cheek, rough with evening—or in this case, early morning—shadow. “Oh, Tim.”

His eyes had grown even bigger at her touch, and he did not reply.

“You didn’t think I actually hated you, did you? I was angry, sure, but, well, I thought,” she snorted at herself, “I thought you would come by with flowers and chocolates in a few days and, and…” she stumbled a little over her words, trying desperately to convey what she suddenly realized was the most important point she’d ever had to make to someone. “I don’t…I don’t _want_ to lose you, Tim! I want us to be…normal, well, normal for us, again, and go on unrealistic-action-movie dates, and share bad cookies in the break room between WE meetings, and I can tease you about being health-nut Ninja Boy and you can laugh at Foxy Lady’s afro and our mutual coffee addiction, and maybe, maybe there’s something _more_ going on and…and…” She trailed off. How could she possibly convey, at this point, that the single dearest wish of her heart was that her little white lie to Vicki Vale would one day be the truth?

She swallowed and looked down, unable to meet Tim’s eyes.

But then she felt a strong and callused but oh-so-gentle hand tuck her hair behind her ear and stroke her cheek, coming to rest under her chin where it unthreateningly but insistently raised her head. Its mate surreptitiously swiped from beneath her eye the tear that had squeezed out under her lashes during her impassioned speech.

“Look at me, please,” he whispered.

She hesitantly lifted her gaze, taking in his eyes now softened in understanding and the small but beautifully real smile curling his lips upward.

“I didn’t realize. I thought,” he shook his head at himself, “you truly wished me out of your personal life, after everything that happened. I’m sorry for being such a blind moron.” He smirked.

An unexpected laugh escaped Tam’s throat, and she laid one of her hands over his where it rested on her cheek, leaning into his caress. She smiled up at him. “I’d still like to talk about what information is necessary to share with your girlfriend, even a semi-faux one. But don’t worry, I’ll work on my acting skills, too, so I can feign sorrow if you ever need to fake someone’s death again.”

His smirk widened into a full-blown grin. “I’m sure we can come to a mutually-beneficial agreement, Miss Fox, concerning our present situation. Let’s see…” he ticked off his fingers as though enumerating a list of conditions for a contract. “Mandatory discussion concerning proper information transfer, free acting lessons from Alfred master of all subtlety and Bruce master of all heavy-handedness…is there anything else you will require, Miss Fox?”

“Well, Mr. Drake-Wayne-Draper,” she leaned forward, remembering her stolen impulsive kiss after their escape from the League of Assassins, wondered if this would be the same, or something unique, “I can think of one or two more conditions…”

The deep-throated rumble of the quickly-approaching Batmobile echoed suddenly through the cave’s med-bay, and the two jerked apart, blushing furiously and looking anywhere but at each other. Batman, Nightwing, and Robin jumped from the sleek black car, followed by Batgirl and Black Bat pulling up on motorcycles as different as their personalities.

The vigilantes quickly converged on the med-bay. Nightwing and Batgirl were talking over each other in asking Tim how he was doing and relaying exactly what had happened that night; Black Bat was smirking at Red Robin and Tevmesia as though she knew exactly what they had been about to do when interrupted; Robin was retrieving Agent A and demanding information; and Batman was placing an incongruously tender hand on his son’s shoulder while glowering mildly at the young man’s girlfriend, her integration into the eclectic vigilante family already begun.

Through the din and bustle, Tim and Tam’s eyes met, and they shared a smile. Perhaps, despite the ninja, missing spleens, intimidating families, and informational debacles, they could make this work, after all.


End file.
